


if only love were that easy

by wytchgrove



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Angsty but then it ends happy I promise, Bottom Eddie, Character Death Fix, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, My writing can get dark so be prepared, Resurrection, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris Lives, They're dead for a moment I'm sorry, Top Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-04-12 21:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wytchgrove/pseuds/wytchgrove
Summary: If Richie had been told first thing this morning that by midnight he’d be brought back to the hometown he couldn’t remember to fight a fucking demon clown they were supposed to have already defeated, be reunited with the friends he forgot and then subsequently end up in bed with one such friend that he had been in love since he was a kid, then he would have laughed in their face and told them to get a better writer.But it was the sort of shit you just couldn’t make up.—————After learning Pennywise wasn't really defeated back in '89, the Losers Club come back to Derry to fight the clown once again.Richie feels like this time will be it. IT will be donzo, over, dusted, but when it turns out that he got Eddie just to lose him, he can't say if it was worth it. What he does know though, is he'll get him back, and Stan, even if it kills him.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	1. where it all began

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my first fic on this platform, and my first reddie to boot! It's starting off nice (as nice as it can be with Pennywise looming) but I'm sorry it's gonna get angsty in the middle before everything's fixed and they live happily ever after. That's just the way I write. Please enjoy, read the tags and I will also include trigger warnings at the tops of certain chapters (I write DARK). Without further ado- enjoy, and please comment, I appreciate kind words and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism ^^

If Richie had been told first thing this morning that by midnight he’d be brought back to the hometown he couldn’t remember to fight a fucking demon clown they were supposed to have already defeated, be reunited with the friends he forgot and then subsequently end up in bed with one such friend that he had been in love since he was a kid, then he would have laughed in their face and told them to get a better writer.

But it was the sort of shit you just couldn’t make up.

When Richie had gotten that phone call and vomited from fear and anxiety, despite having no clue what it was he feared, he honestly had no idea what going back to Derry would have in store for him.

He certainly did not expect to be in bed with the guy he’d pined over for years, said guy sleeping on his chest in his arms.

You really could not make this shit up.

Richie rubbed at his eyes, still in disbelief over what had occurred mere hours ago.

~

When Richie got in his car and left for the airport earlier that day, he couldn’t have guessed what he was letting himself in for.

He couldn’t remember a single fucking thing about Derry, other than the feeling of familiarity the name of the place gave him which would be followed closely by an all-consuming fear that had him breaking out in sweats and damn near hyperventilating.

As he neared Derry, however, that began to change.

He left the airport in a rental, a flashy one of course, and the closer he got to his destination, the memories started trickling through.

They were flashes at first, but then his ETA shrunk further and so did his memories become more intense than flashes.

He had to pull over a few times as this happened (he’s lucky he didn’t crash), and get through them.

Entering Derry and actually trying to drive through it was a fucking feat in itself, one after the other they bombarded his frontal lobe, all fighting for attention relentlessly.

He remembered the losers and how each one found their way into his life, he remembered the dreaded summer that brought Ben, Bev and Mike into their little gang of four and becoming the losers club. He remembered the clubhouse, and the weeks they got to share as a family of seven after defeating IT before Bev left. 

He remembered becoming enamoured with Eddie as a kid and then falling headfirst for him as a teenager. He remembered his bantering with Eddie, the need to get a rise out of him constantly, but then he also remembered the quiet moments they shared, listening to music in either Richie or Eddie’s room, on a bed, how they ended up being quite tactile with each other and Richie didn’t know if he should take those moments as signals of reciprocation or just go with it, not overthink for once and just be in the moment. He always went for the latter, but the former would be the forefront of his dreams and fantasies. He remembered doing shit that put him in “danger” just to hear Eddie admonish him and look out for him, even getting all kinds of cuts and scrapes and Eddie physically looking after him, patching him back up.

When he was in Derry, he had to take a break from driving to get through this assault on his mind.

Having the memories that made up his formative years suddenly thrown into focus is actually quite a lot to take in and is extremely disorientating.

He eventually made it to the Chinese restaurant Mike told them to meet at though, by nightfall.

He saw Eddie, and those feelings came back full force. They locked eyes and smiled awkwardly, then Richie cracked a joke as was Trashmouth fashion, the tension was gone and they sat round their table.

It shocked him at how easy it was to be with everyone again, like a pause button had just been hit for the past 27 years and they were now picking up from where they left off nearly three decades ago.

But then Pennywise had to remind them of why they were brought back to together again.

He was back, they hadn’t defeated him like they thought they had.

And they were going to be one short.

Stan killed himself.

Now that,_ that_ was the fucking cherry on the shitty cake that was life wasn’t it?

It really threw them, they knew that Stan had had his own demons that he dealt with on the daily, but to kill himself? That was unexpected and shocking and just fucking _fucked_.

Richie wasn’t entirely sure how to process that, considering just this morning he had no idea who he was, but then being in Derry through him back to the summer of '89 and they were kids again, and the closest a bunch of losers could be.

They were a family, and he had his memories back and it fucking stung in his heart.

Before that summer, it had been him and Bill, when they were tiny, then Stan and Eddie not long after. The four of them went back further than the losers.

He didn’t expect to come to Derry and to be grieving damn near immediately.

They ended up at the townhouse they had all booked into, trying to process together what had happened, along with how Bev had known how Stan would die.

Richie was reeling, he didn’t know how to fucking cope with this. None of this was fucking standard for what anyone had to go through and manage.

He had a drink and then he had to go to his room, although it actually killed him inside to be any distance from the other five right now. He had felt this sudden need, _urge_, within him to be as close to the losers as he could be. He shook his head at the thought of becoming dependent on those guys, when he knew full well that everyone would be going to back their lives when this was over. If they survived at all.

He was lying on his bed, fully clothed, on the top of the covers, contemplating the shit they were in and how they would even get out of the other side of it, when there was a knock on his door.

He was pretty sure he would have spiralled if that knock hadn’t happened.

He dragged himself up and walked heavily to the door.

He opened it and came face to face with Eddie.

Well face to chest, because he was definitely a whole head taller than the man before him.

Boy had this man really grown into his looks over the years.

He looked like he would be well built under those clothes, something he couldn’t help but try and visualise, he had dark stubble, the same dark eyes in a near permanent frown when they were on Richie, although this time, he wasn’t frowning in exasperation. His expression was soft and, possibly regretful? He had no idea why would look like that, but he was sure he was about to find out.

“Hey Eds,”

“Hey Richie, can I come in? And don’t call me that,” he says, and admonishes, although it sounds only half hearted.

Richie nods, and steps aside, “Come on in,” he probably would have made a joke that Eddie was using him for a booty call, or something else along those lines, had he been in a different mood, and had Eddie not had the expression he was wearing right now. He just didn’t think it would sit well right now. There would plenty more opportunities for shitty jokes, he hoped.

Eddie walks in, looks around and turns to face Richie, who had closed the door already and was waiting expectantly.

Eddie took a deep breath in, seeming to brace himself. “So, right, I’m just gonna cut straight to the chase,” he stops there though.

Richie waits, Eddie goes to sit down on his bed, but then he stands again, and paces around the room instead, full of nervous energy that can’t stay still.

Richie starts getting nervous himself, what the hell could he want to say that would get him so worked up?

“The suspense is killing me Eds, if you wanna bang just get it out already,” he says, tone light, trying to ease the tension in the room. Huh, maybe he was in the mood for cracking stupid jokes after all.

It has the opposite effect however, and Eddie’s face closes off, the air is suddenly cold, and he is not glaring in that way he used to.

His face reddens and he storms past Richie.

“Fuck you, I shouldn’t have come here, you can’t ever take anything fucking seriously,” he nearly shouts to Richie as he tries to get to the door, but then Richie is latched onto the wrist closest to him, and he spins Eddie back to him easily.

“Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry, it was a joke, you seemed tense man, I’ll behave I promise, just stay and tell me what you wanted to say,” He all but pleads, his hand is on fire right now with Eddie’s skin touching his and he wishes he could touch him forever.

Eddie snatches his wrist back, because Richie lets him, and he storms back towards the middle of the room.

He sits on the end of the bed; Richie follows and sits next to him.

Eddie’s hands rub on his legs nervously, before he bites out, “Fuck it,” then he is grabbing Richie’s face in both of his hands and his lips are on his. Richie’s eyes widen before they close and he quickly settles into the kiss, his blood singing.

He kisses back, earning a shocked gasp from Eddie. Richie takes advantage of the slightly open mouth and coaxes in his tongue, sliding it along his lips, then teeth, before gliding into the mouth that willingly opens further to accept him. He can’t help but moan quietly at that.

One arm wraps around Eddies back, the other falling to grasp his hip, pulling his body closer while supporting him, holding him as close as could at the awkward angle.

Eddie’s hands go around Richie’s neck, before drifting up into his curls, holding him there. Richie lets out another moan at the feel of those fingers in his hair, the nails scratching ever so lightly against his scalp.

He’s earned a moan in return from the man in his arms, and he holds impossibly tighter, before easing back slightly, their kiss slowing to closed mouths, and then stopping. Richie pecks one more time before letting his forehead fall to touch Eddie’s.

The hand that was on his hip comes up to cup Eddie’s cheek.

They’re both breathing heavily from that, and they bask in each other for a moment as their breathing slows.

Richie breaks the silence first, _“Fuck,”_ his voice barely above a whisper, breathless.

Eddie scoffs quietly, “Yeah,” he agrees.

“I can say I was honestly not expecting to get jumped, and I can see now how that joke was in bad taste, knowing your intentions,” Richie says lightly, berating himself internally for that.

Eddie pulls back so he can look Richie in the face, looking affronted, “Hey fuckwad, I did not come here to _jump _you, there was a whole fuck tonne of shit I was gonna say, I wasn’t even intending on _kissing _you, I was just gonna say how I felt because I don’t see the point holding it in this time, losing those 27 years was a real slap in the face you know,” he finishes, voice getting softer as he spoke.

Richie understood completely, “I know,” he agrees.

Eddie’s eyes meet his again, and there’s so much regret and longing and sadness there, and he wishes he could wipe it away.

He settles for rubbing the thumb that's on his face gently across his cheek.

“So you decided to hell with it, I’ll just go all in?” He asks, still genuinely curious.

Eddie nods and shrugs, “Pretty much, yeah,”

Richie shakes his head, “I can’t fucking believe this is happening, I’ve loved you since we were kids,” he didn’t give a shit if it was too soon to drop the L word, he’d already lost 27 years, screw moving slow.

Eddie’s eyes shine slightly, “So have I,” and they’re kissing again.

They work their way up to the pillows, and crash there, kissing a bit more, hands roaming, touching, grasping, stroking any bit of skin they can.

They don’t go any further than shedding a few items of clothing, and would gave both been shocked at their restraint had they both also not been so fucking _exhausted _from the evening’s events, not to mention all the travelling they had done and the recovering of memories as well.

So, that’s how Richie came to be in bed with the love of his life laying across his chest, sleeping soundly, while he couldn’t, his mind still reeling from the evening, still trying to process what had happened.

Eventually, his eyes drift closed, and he falls into a slumber. Eddie’s breathing easing him into a calm he hadn’t felt for years.

He lets himself be lulled for now because he could only guess at what fresh hell would be waiting for them tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks behind fingers* I hope that was a good start, please be gentle! I'm gonna touch on the events leading up to the final battle, but that's where shit will really go down and from there we'll be IN THE DRAMA AND DARKNESS. Get ready!


	2. reunited and it feels so good

Richie woke up the next day feeling all encompassed in a warmth, and he couldn’t help but roll further into it and grip it tighter to himself.

His nose was tickled by something and he felt whatever was in his arms squirm slightly, so his hands roamed over what he was holding and realised it felt smooth as honey, while it was firm.

He heard a sleepy moan.

He cracked open an eye, and was met with a face full of dark brown hair and then previous night’s events replayed in his head.

He smiled to himself and snuggled into Eddie’s warm body.

Eddie turned in his arms to face him, so Richie pecked him on the nose and Eddie scrunched it in response.

“’M sleepin’…” he grumbled. Even in his sleep he had to tell Richie off, but he couldn’t deny that he loved it.

Richie was beaming and he shuffled as close as was possible, tucking Eddie’s head under his chin and holding him close to his chest.

He took a deep breath, burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and breathing him in, he closed his eyes, content for a moment. Blissfully ignoring the reality of their situation and why they were even in this position.

Eddie pulled his head back to open his eyes and look up at Richie, all full of sleep and so impossibly _cute_.

“Morning cutie,” Richie said, showing no restraint as always. He was still beaming.

Eddie blushed and tried to look affronted but then he gave in and settled for a huff.

“Morning, shithead,” he responds, voice husky from sleep.

Richie just kept on grinning.

He kissed him on the forehead, “Love you too,” he mumbled against head.

Eddie hummed, “Hate you,” he grumbled, half-heartedly, in response.

Richie knew what he really meant, he always did. Eddie was like a second language to him, in his words and his actions. He had studied him from when they were like 5 until they graduated, so he _knew_ him extremely well and he could already tell that the Eddie he knew hadn’t changed too much at his core over the past 27 years.

“We have to get up in a bit,” It was Richie’s turn to grumble. But they had a fucking demon clown to kill.

Eddie moaned forlornly, and he burrowed himself into Richie’s chest, “Why do you have to be an asshole and ruin everything?” he whined. Riche’s heart couldn’t help but soar. God, he loved this man.

He removed one hand, from around Eddie, to reach up and grasp his chin lightly, and tilt his head up to kiss him on the lips.

Eddie’s hands roamed up Richie’s bare chest, one hand remained there while the other went to the back of Richie’s head holding him there for a second before he pulled away slightly.

“We’re not going any further until we brush our teeth,” he whispered against his mouth. His dark eyes met Richie’s for a moment before he was detangling himself from Richie’s grip, and he didn’t make it easy.

“Oh my _god_, you’re like an octopus, get up and brush your teeth,” he demanded on his way to the bathroom.

Richie groaned into the pillow.

~

Turns out they didn’t really have time to get up to much after brushing their teeth and after a brief make out session they got themselves dressed and headed out to meet everyone downstairs.

Eddie paused on the way, “Shit, I have to go get changed,” he said pointedly.

Richie smirked, “Uh oh, what would they think, you turning up in the clothes you wore yesterday?” he teases.

Eddie just rolls his eyes, “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit, dickhead,”

“You know, I actually think I’m warming to these pet names you come up with for me, I mean, who needs sweetheart and my love when you can be referred to as various forms of genitalia?” he jokes with a shrug.

Eddie can’t help but laugh and bring him in for a quick kiss, “Love you, fucker,” he murmurs against his lips before pulling away and walking back to his room.

Richie allows himself to watch him walk away for a bit, admiringly, before he turns in the opposite direction and makes his way downstairs.

Eddie doesn’t take long to get ready and everyone is already around the table when he arrives, and there happens to be a seat left next to Richie so he takes it. He is immediately greeted with a warm mug of coffee in his hands from Richie.

He looks up at him with a bemused smile at the kind gesture, “Thanks,” he says before taking a sip.

He elicits one of those rare, genuine smiles from Richie, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle and it’s blinding, “No problem,” he replies.

Eddie takes a sip.

“It’s damage control more than anything, we all know what you can get like in the mornings before your first coffee, and we already have one demon to deal with today, we don’t need another,” Of course he just had to.

Eddie chokes down his sip before looking at him all affronted, “Excuse me, shithead, but you’re not exactly one to talk, fuck you’d be so snappy and _awful_, thanks for ruining my first sip by the way, dick,” he says, looking away, all huffy and red.

Richie just laughs, “Whatever, I think everyone remembers the great coffee gate of ‘92, don’t you guys?” He gets everyone’s attention, from looking all serious and like they were getting ready for a funeral, as he raises his voice slightly, “Remember when we crashed at mine and my parents had run out of coffee so Eddie freaked the fuck out?” And like that he gets them all laughing and regaling tales of their teenage hood they had shared together, helping them to focus on something other than their possibly impending doom. That’s what Richie did best.

They eventually work their way out of the kitchen/dining area and into the seating near the bar.

Richie falls into an armchair and Eddie sits on the arm of it, never drifting more than a few inches away from each other. They both knew what was to come, and they were both realistic, they knew a possible outcome of this final boss battle (as Richie liked to call it) could end up with one or both of them not actually coming out of it alive. Of course, they didn’t _like _to think like this, but when fucking demon clowns were thrown into the mix, you had to prepare for the worst.

So they weren’t going to be too far from each other until that happened, if they could help it, and Richie was glad for that. Eddie had always been his biggest comfort blanket, the one he could always rely on or lean on if he felt he needed it, and today was no different.

He suspected it was the same for Eddie, not to toot his own horn, but they had been as close as two platonic friends could be from the word go and they were five years old. They were inseparable.

He couldn’t help the hope rising in him that they both made it out of this alive.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t.

~

Turns out he didn’t have much time to consider the “what if’s” of their situation before they were being informed by Mike that an ancient people had already gotten rid of this demon clown. And he was a fucking demon clown from _space_??? Bill confirmed it all, and while Mike had a calm strength to him, Bill had the charisma that made the gang want to listen to him, and so his confirmation meant it had to be so and certainly helped Mike’s cause.

Richie was still trying to wrap his head around that when they were then being told that they all had “tokens” to find, but that’s not the worst part.

They have to find them _alone_.

He had scrubbed his face in exasperation when Mike said that. He had been really hoping that Eddie and he wouldn’t be separated during this ordeal for any significant amount of time, but now they were going to lose, what could be, a whole day, depending on how long it took to find their tokens.

They weren’t going to see each other again until the final showdown.

As everyone got chatting with each other about the situation, Eddie lightly tugged on Richie’s jacket sleeve and he followed him to a quiet corner of the room.

“Listen, we’ll just get through today okay? I know, it’s shit, we’re losing a day together, but,” Eddie paused and huffed out a breath, “We just have to get through today, and it’ll be over,” he said, trying to reassure Richie.

It only half worked, but he won’t tell Eddie that.

He settled for pulling him into a bear hug instead, nothing unusual about that. He held him as tight as he could to himself, and he dipped his face to bury it in Eddie’s hair, he breathed him in.

Fuck.

They better get out of this alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this filler chapter, of sorts, but that's how it flowed, and it didn't feel right having the next events tacked onto this. That end sentence felt natural and I've decided make you wait a couple more days before the action really begins. That's right, the next chapter will be THE FINAL SHOWDOWN, so buckle up buttercups! You know what's coming, but don't worry we can cry together. 
> 
> Also, can anyone guess where I got my chapter title from? It's a funny little thing that came to me when trying to think of what would suit as a chapter title. Hint: it's from a popular comedy cop series...


	3. braver than you think

Richie found his way to Neibolt several hours later. He got his token, a literal arcade token from the decrepit place that was now only a symbol of the many fun memories he had created there but also some that were tinged with his “secret” and reminded him of why he could have absolutely _not_ come out back then.

Well, it’s not like he was exactly “out” now, even if he had told Eddie how he felt, but Pennywise knew that, all of it.

So, that meant he had new ammunition for putting the fear into Richie, and he used their confessions to do it.

If anything, Pennywise was _glowing_ with happiness at the knowledge that Richie and Eddie confessed to each other because now it’ll just hurt more “when” one of them dies. They can have their taste for each other, just to be ripped apart.

It was safe to say that Richie was rattled. Pennywise had seemed so confident that Eddie would die, and if not Eddie then Richie would. Richie _had_ to make sure that didn’t happen.

Despite his renewed conviction to keep himself and Eddie alive, he couldn’t help the ice cold fear from running through his veins, and the adrenaline pumping around his body, with the suspense of what would be lying in wait for them in the house.

He was the last one to make it and he went to straight to Eddie. He had to do a double take and restrain himself from reaching out to Eddie when he noticed he had a bandage on his left cheek.

“What’s the story behind that then?” he said, gesturing to his face. He tried and failed to hide his anger at whoever thought they could lay a hand on him.

Eddie clenched his jaw for moment, before spitting out, “Bowers,” he paused, steadying himself, “He got me in the cheek with a knife in my bathroom at the townhouse, I fought him for it, hid in the bath behind a shower curtain and stabbed through the curtain with it, and _then,_” He paused again, Richie braced himself, “On my way here, I stopped by the library to find Mike, and Bowers was there trying to kill _him_, so I grabbed an axe and…” he trailed off, and made a little whacking notion.

Richie’s brow raised, “You killed him?” he asks, surprised at this turn of events, and the whole story in general. Jesus, he thought _he’d _had a fucking day. It was nothing to compared to this.

Eddie nodded, “In the head,” he added.

Richie let out a shocked laugh, and rubbed a hand over his stubble, “Shit, Eds, that’s a quite a fucking day you had there,” he comments, still not really comprehending what he was being told.

He couldn’t help but look at Eddie in a different light now, he regarded the smaller man before him. God, _Eddie, _Eddie scared of the fucking world Kaspbrak, fought off Bowers for his own life and _then _he saved Mike? Talk about character development.

He blinked and shook his head in disbelief before he grinned and pulled Eddie in for a hug, one hand going to the back of his head and holding him to his chest.

“Fuck, I’m proud of you man,” he says at last.

“You’re proud of me for killing someone?” he asks.

“No, I’m proud of you for standing up to your demons, standing up for yourself, and for standing up to the fuckhead who had tormented all of us for years, you did more than just kill someone, Eddie, you saved our friend, hell you saved all of us in some way,” he finished his speech, and they both took a step back from each other.

Eddie didn’t look too convinced, although he looked much better than he had, “We’ve still got a fucking demon clown to kill Rich, I wouldn’t go tooting my horn too much yet,” he says, and Richie can see his fingers twitching. A nervous tick that, back when they were kids, would be followed by him taking a hit on his inhaler if he still had one.

Richie grabs his hands, and holds them tight in his, looking down into Eddie’s eyes, not caring if the others saw, “You listen to me, we’re going to go in there and fuck this clown to dust, we’re gonna kick his fucking ass, and as shit as the situation is, I couldn’t be more confident knowing you’ll be by my side when we do it,” he says, his voice strong and firm. He needed Eddie to believe him, he didn’t have much more time to convince him.

Eddie just nodded and gave Richie a small smile in response, Richie took that as a win. He grinned back at him, hoping to ease his nerves.

He dropped one hand but kept a hold of another. Fuck it at this point, they could die in there, he wasn’t going to waste another moment being fucking scared into the closet.

They walk over to the others who were waiting patiently, albeit twitchy to get this over with.

Bev was the only one who took notice of their joined hands. She looked down and then her eyes flicked up to Richie’s, he met them, unflinching. She raised an eyebrow and her lips curved ever so slightly into a smile, her eyes softened, a reassuring expression fell across her face. Richie gave a small smile back in response and he went to stand next to her, Eddie on his left. The man was clutching his hand tight enough that he was probably going to leave a bruise and Richie didn’t think he would be able to get his hand back if he wanted to.

They all stood there for a moment, taking in the gravity of the situation they were in.

_Again._

“Guess it’s time for the final boss battle, huh?” He says, his voice more serious than expected with those words.

Everyone looked around to each other, before their eyes fell on Bill, and then he led the way.

~

They didn’t make it very far before getting split up and being faced with some fucked up shitshow that Pennywise had in store for them.

Richie was currently screaming and trying with all his might to get this fucking Stan spider head off him. Despite being only a head, it was actually _very _strong and its pincers were reaching to scoop out his brains or some shit. He didn’t want to find out.

He didn’t have too long to panic over the different possibilities though because then it was forced away from his face and he was met with the sight of Bill smashing it into the flooring and killing it.

He tried getting his breath back and then Bill was in his line of vision again, hauling Richie up off the ground before he whirled on Eddie and laid into him.

“The _fuck_ Eddie?! He could’ve _died_! Were you gonna just fucking let him die? What the _fuck _were you doing?! We can’t freeze up and give in to the fear, that’s what Pennywise _wants_, you have to buck the fuck up and help us, do you understand?” He shouted into Eddie’s face. When Eddie responded with looking away, Bill’s face turned to one of disappointment before he spun away from him and stormed over to the door. It opened this time.

Eddie wasted no time and followed after Bill, avoiding Richie and the betrayal that he was sure would be present at Eddie’s _in_actions.

Richie was hot on his heels; he called after him, “Eds? Eddie! Hey, Eddie, would you just stop for a second?” For someone that had shorter legs than he did, he sure moved fast.

He still caught up to him though, and he grabbed his arm, “Eddie, _stop_, would you just stop and look at me for a second? What happened back there?” he asked urgently, he couldn’t see what had been going on. He thought he saw Bill thrown back by something and so he must have been down while Richie had the Stan spider head on him. He had assumed the same was meant for Eddie, but after what Bill had said something different had clearly gone down.

He knew how Eddie could be succumbed to fear, how he could be _paralyzed_ by it, and he needed to reassure and be there for him right now. If he would let him.

Eddie just forced his arm out of his grip, still not meeting his eyes and bit out, “We don’t have time,” and he turned and chased after Bill.

Richie let out a breath of frustration before following. He could hear more voices, and thank fucking God Bev, Ben and Mike had made it out of whatever hellscape they had also been trapped in, he pushed his legs to catch up, he certainly didn’t want to get separated again.

~

They were now running and screaming for their lives, getting split up again in the process.

They burnt their tokens, shouted the chant that Mike had taught them to the heavens, felt some freaky shit happen around them, closed the lid on the fucking pot of destiny (Richie had no idea what to call it) but Pennywise was, of course, just having a play with them.

The force of the chant threw everyone onto their backs, and for a moment it was silent.

And then it came out, there was one _little_ thing that Mike had failed to let them in on. Those ancient people that had performed this curse to rid the space alien demon clown before? Oh yeah, it hadn’t actually worked!

Mike hid that from everyone because he had thought they wouldn’t want to do it and come back if he didn’t have a concrete way of ridding the clown for good.

He claimed it was because they didn’t “believe” or whatever the fuck, but in the end he had deceived the people that would understand him the most. In desperation, yes they can understand that, but that meant they had no other ideas in their arsenal, which meant they were more vulnerable than ever.

They were now fractious, arguing and freaking out and that was exactly what Pennywise needed.

So, he makes a big song and dance in returning to form in front of them, the lights burst out and float up from the pot of destiny, they were just floating there a moment.

Then he took form, and he wasn’t just Pennywise the Clown this time, oh no, he was Pennywise the fucking giant spider clown.

He went for them, not only was he this giant spider with a Pennywise head but he had tentacles and he was lunging for them, he managed to grab a hold of Bill and throw him.

Mike was by him in a second and then everyone went into any crevice of the cave they could find.

They ended up in pairs; Mike and Bill, Bev and Ben and then Richie and Eddie.

Richie and Eddie just ran, taking turns aimlessly, until they came to three doors.

While Eddie was ready to take on whatever Pennywise had prepared for them this time, Richie was still worried about him. He hadn’t looked at him once, not since the Stan spider head earlier.

Richie took his moment, “Eddie, we’ll deal with that in a sec, can you talk to me about earlier?”

Eddie went still, suddenly tense and he just looked straight ahead, “What’s there to talk about?”

“Why did Bill shout at you like that?” he could guess but he needed Eddie to say, and then he could get them to move on from it.

He took a deep breath, “I froze,” he said in a small voice, “I’m useless here, you drew the short straw in ending up with me, apparently it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I would still just stand there and let you die,” he continued, his voice turning venomous and Richie couldn’t stand it.

He grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to face him at last, but Eddie just stared resolutely at his chest, Richie shook him slightly, “Hey, look at me,” he damn near demanded it at this point.

He waited and the smaller man finally met his eyes, and he wished they didn’t look so pained, “You listen to me, who stood up to his mom when he was only thirteen to come with his friends and kill a demon clown? Fuck it, who stood up to said demon space clown with his friends?” he paused, waiting for Eddie to answer.

“Me and me,” he said in a small voice.

“Who got stabbed in the face by Henry fucking Bowers and fought him off with _the_ knife that had just been in his face?”

“Me,”

“Who then _killed _Henry fucking Bowers and saved his friend?” Richie’s voice got louder, he was all but shouting in his face at this point.

“Me,” his voice was getting a bit stronger.

“Who married a woman twice his size?” that got a slight lift in the corners of his mouth, and Richie knew he was winning.

“Me,” he said.

His hands to go to Eddie’s face, holding it gently, mindful of the bandage on his left cheek, his voice lowered, got serious, “Eddie, I have no worries with you here by my side, I know when it comes down to it, you’ve got my back, you’re braver than you think, and I couldn’t be prouder of you and how strong you’ve become, I love you, I will still love you when this is over,” he finishes softly, Eddie can’t help but smile at that and so Richie leans down to press a light kiss to his lips. Eddie’s hands go to his hips, pulling him close; neither of them deepens the kiss. Just hold each other there for a moment before Richie pulls him into a hug, tucking Eddie’s head under his chin.

“I love you too,” Eddie says into his chest, his grip tight on the taller man. Richie’s heart sores at the words.

He squeezes him once more before letting him step back, they lock eyes and Richie tries to look encouraging, “Let’s see what IT’s got in store for us shall we?”

Eddie shakes his head but there’s a new resolve in his eyes, face, body, “Let’s get on with it,” and then they readied themselves for whatever lie in wait behind the three doors ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone. Sorry to do another cliffhanger, but it's necessary! Next chapter though, that's when IT'S gonna happen, the dreaded moment we've been waiting for T_T get ready. 
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos, the kudos I've received so far is much appreciated! Also subscribe or bookmark so you can be notified of new chapters!


	4. set me on fire, that would hurt less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: character death  
It is very sad, I'm sorry

So they had ended up running and screaming again, back the way they had come; back to the fucking giant Pennywise spider clown.

There had been three doors, “Not Scary”, “Scary” and “Very Scary”. They tried each one but they all had some fucked up freak show waiting for them, and then the cave walls around them started crumbling and they had to run for their lives.

They slow down as they come closer to the big cavern where Pennywise was surely waiting for them.

They stop and try to mentally prepare themselves for what would happen next, for facing Pennywise.

Bev had given Eddie a long poker after the Stan spider head fiasco earlier, told him that it would kill monsters if he believed it would, so he gripped it tighter now.

Richie turned to Eddie, who turns to face him immediately. Richie’s hands come up to take his face and he kisses him. It’s hot and urgent, as brief as he can make it.

He pulls away, both breathing heavy, “Eds-”

“Stop,” He interrupts him, “Don’t say it, please, just don’t, this isn’t gonna be it,” he said, his voice was firm but bordering on desperate.

They both knew this could be it, but he couldn’t hear it, and Richie didn’t want to say it. What he really wanted to say was ‘I love you’ again, but he knew it could sound like goodbye. So he settled for touching his forehead to Eddie’s, hoping to convey all that he felt in that moment.

They could only hold onto each other for a few fraught seconds before they had to let go and make their way to the end battle.

This is it now, they could both feel it.

When they made it to the entrance of the cave they had run through earlier, they hung back slightly and edged along the rocky wall to see what was actually happening. See if they could spy where Pennywise was, where their friends were.

They peered round a piece of the rocky wall, jutting out at all angles, just in time to see Pennywise grab Mike with a tentacle and lift him off the ground, squeezing the air out of his lungs and opening his face full of teeth, ready to eat Mike or show him the deadlights. Either way, Richie didn’t want to find out.

His blood boiled and suddenly he was in action. He moved quicker than Eddie could anticipate and was already shouting over to Pennywise before he could stop him.

He throws a rock at his face, getting his attention, “Hey fuck face!” he shouts.

Pennywise throws Mike and he manages to crawl away. IT's whole attention is on Richie now, Richie picks up another rock.

“Wanna play truth or dare? He’s a truth! You’re a sloppy bitch! Yeah that’s right, let’s dance, yippee kayay motherfu-”

His arms go slack, dropping the rock he was holding, along with his jaw and only the whites of his eyes are visible.

He was caught in the deadlights.

Eddie froze for a second, suddenly more frightened than he had ever felt in his life, but then his fists clench and he remembers he is holding something.

He looks down at the poker Bev had given him. He looks up at Richie floating above him, Pennywise steadily moving closer. He doesn’t have time.

He is full of a new resolve he hadn’t felt before, or ever, he hadn’t even felt like this when confessing how he felt to Richie the night previous.

He ran, bringing his arm up with the poker, and launched it as hard as he could. It flew from his fingers with the strength of his throw, and sliced straight through the heart of Pennywise.

Richie was on the floor the same second, and Eddie threw himself at him.

Pennywise fell back against the raised rock surrounding the centre of the cave, where the chant had failed earlier, the poker sticking out from his chest.

He fell still.

Eddie started frantically grabbing at Richie’s chest and face to wake him up, “Hey Richie! Richie, can you believe it? I did it, I killed him, it’s over, I got it, I got his heart, it’s done, it’s fina-”

Blood spatters across Richie’s face, he can see the thick droplets on his glasses, and behind that Eddie is above him, blood dripping from his mouth, a talon torn through his chest.

Richie hears a scream, which he faintly recalls as his, if only from the way he throat burned while he did it, but then Eddie is flung to the side and he scrambles as fast as he can after him.

He moves faster than he expects to be able to, but his adrenaline is pumping and he feels wired from the shock of what just happened.

He grabs Eddie and pulls him up to standing, barely, and walks him over to the entrance they had come out of earlier.

Richie sits Eddie down against the rock wall there and Eddie all but collapses into it as he does, Richie’s on his knees at his side.

He takes off his jacket and presses it onto the wound, to stem the fucking flood of red pouring from Eddie’s chest. He can’t look at it. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. Fuck, he couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let him die, this can’t be it, it _can’t_.

His hands go to Eddie’s face, tapping it to get him to keep his eyes open, “Hey, hey, Eddie, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, that’s it,” he says this as calmly as he possibly can, although he can hear the urgency lingering on the edge of his tone, can feel it in his very bones even, but he can’t acknowledge it because then he’s admitting it’s over and it can’t be over.

Eddie fights to keep his eyes on Richie, and he gets out a gurgled scoff, more blood dripping from his lips when he does, “I- I th-thought… I g-got… h-him,” his voice is hoarse and barely loud enough to hear. Fuck, he’s already so weak.

Richie smiles at him, fighting back the tears that are threatening to fall, “Hey, you did, you got him, Eds, you saved me,” he says, trying to sound reassuring and stronger than he really feels in that moment.

Eddie’s eyes begin to close again, so he shakes him slightly, and puts his hands back on the jacket on his chest. He had to do something, he couldn’t just sit there.

“R-Rich,” he tries.

“Shhhh, don’t try to talk baby, okay, I got you,” Richie says gently.

Eddie frowns slightly, the simple movement looking like it takes more effort now than it should, “Y-You sh-should… S-stop, I-I’m n-not g-gonna…” he struggles out, his voice so weak Richie feels his heart ache to hear it.

“Don’t say it, hey, you said earlier remember? We’re gonna get out of this, we’ll get you out of here okay? We’ll get you to a hospital, and all fixed up and then we get out of this shitty town, start a new life somewhere yeah?” He was trying to take Eddie’s mind off what was happening, and his own to be honest, he knew in his fucking bones what was happening, but maybe Eddie didn’t have to worry about it. Eddie spent his life worrying, about everyone and every damn thing, maybe for once he can have peace.

Richie just hadn’t realised till now how that fucking peace was to come.

He kept one hand on the jacket on Eddie’s chest, and then one came up to his cheek, the one that didn’t have the bandage.

“We can get a house, wherever you want, with a big garden for a dog to run around in, we can live in the city, in the country, in the fucking mountains, wherever you want, Eds, we can have the life we were meant to have,” he talks softly now, holding Eddie’s eyes with his own. Eddie smiles, the smallest and most pained of smiles, but a smile nonetheless, and Richie has no fucking idea how he is keeping it together right now, but he had to for Eddie.

He could hear the other losers shouting and screaming at Pennywise, he spared a glance in their direction. Eddie could hear them too, it sounded like they had come up with a new strategy for defeating the clown.

“H-Help… th-them, R-Rich,” he said, nearly whispering.

Richie looked back at Eddie, he placed a light kiss on his lips, then he held his gaze again, “I’ll come back as soon as I can, I love you,” he said, a new urgency filling his voice.

“I-I l-love… you, sh-shit… h-head,” he said, a small smile on his lips again.

Richie couldn’t help the breathy laugh that came out of him, and he smiled one last time at the man he loved, placing another quick kiss on his forehead, then he was on his feet.

He joined in with his friends, straying only a few steps from Eddie, but then he was moving with the others. They were one unit, one body, closing in on the clown as he screamed and shouted back in pain and anger as he got smaller and smaller, they kept going until they forced him down to a shrivelled sack of skin on the rocky floor.

Richie had never seen anything more pathetic.

Then Bev reached down, she ripped out his heart, the black mass beating in her hands. Pennywise was on the ground still gasping out ragged breaths.

She held it out in front of her, and then they knew what she was waiting for.

They each placed a hand over the heart and as one they squeezed the life out of it until it exploded in their joined hands, black blood spilling to the floor.

With that done, Richie’s mind went straight back to Eddie and he spun from the group and sprinted the short distance to him.

He fell to his knees next to Eddie, he shook him lightly, trying to get him to look at him, he opened his eyes achingly slow, “Hey, Eddie, we did it, he’s gone, he’s dead, it’s over, we did it, we can go, we can leave,” his voice is verging on manic, even he can hear it, no one else says anything.

Eddie’s eyes meet his, relief fills them, his mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to say something, the corners turned up the smallest amount.

He chokes out a breath, a single drop of blood dribbles down his chin.

His head falls back against the rock behind him, his eyes roll to look up to the ceiling of the cave above them.

As if he was holding on just long enough to slip away safely knowing that Pennywise, the tormentor of their lives, the one who had brought them all together just to rip them apart, was finally gone.

His chest doesn’t move again, his eyes turn to glass.

Richie shakes him, “Hey, Eds, come on, get up, get up man! Come on, we have to go, we did it, okay? It’s over, it’s over!” he shouts on repeat, it’s all he can do. He just shakes Eddie and shouts at him, verging on screaming.

But then Bev is at his side, she kneels down, she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Honey… Honey, he’s dead,” she says softly, her voice cracks on that last word. The dreaded word that was already screaming at him over and over on the inside but that he refused to accept because he just got Eddie back and he could not, _would not_, believe that he was taken from him. How could the universe be so fucked?

“Eddie, come on, we have to go,” he ignored her, ignored the tears already streaming down his cheeks, ignored the way he was practically screaming now, his voice cracking and his throat burning. He felt like his insides were on fire and full of ice at the same time, fuck everything about this.

Bev was trying to get him up, urging him.

The cave around them started shaking, rocks crumbling off the walls and ceiling.

Before he knew it there were more than just Bev’s hands grabbing him, but he wouldn’t let go of Eddie, he couldn’t, he was _not _going to leave him here; in this place of death and disease? No fucking way.

He screamed at them to let him take him, please he had to bring him, didn’t they understand? How could they just leave him?

They pried his hands off of Eddie and pulled him out through the cave entrance into the tunnels.

He got himself together enough to run with them, eventually, and they all came out into fucking Neibolt house, and then they were outside.

They made it just in time, because before they turned to completely face it, it was already crumbling into the ground, a hole beneath it from the cave collapsing in on itself and then it was gone; nothing but firewood.

Richie felt numb, he had stopped crying as they ran back out to the real world, and now all that was left in its wake was an emptiness that felt oddly comforting to him right now. He knew that when the dam broke again, and he was sure it would, he wasn’t convinced if he’d be able to stop, and if he could, he didn’t think there would be any of him left.

Bill started walking away first, then Bev and Ben, Mike, then Richie following behind. His legs moving of their own accord the while, he had no idea where they were going until they were walking into the ice cold water of the quarry.

The cold shocked him out of his daze slightly, but he kept walking until he got to a bit of rock in the water he could sit on, while everyone else set to work cleaning themselves.

As they clean the blood and mud and shit off, they started joking about how Eddie would love the fact they were cleaning themselves in this “disease-ridden” water, and complain that they would sooner get listeria than actually get clean.

They pause, looking to Richie, to see if he has anything to say. Bev is the only one who doesn't meet his gaze. She knows, she understands.

That’s what does it though, their expectant expressions, the dam brakes and he bawls, louder and harder than he ever has. He cries into hands, and then he feels, one by one, the losers gather round to hug him, hold him, and support him through it.

He begins to quiet, rubbing his eyes, and breathing heavily, then he realises something.

“Shit, I’ve lost my glasses,” he gets out, his voice hoarse from that episode. The grief is all they can hear, and it kills them.

They all immediately set to work to find them in the water, diving down one after the other.

It’s Bev and Ben who come over to give them to him, he takes them gratefully and puts them on.

But nothing changes, he doesn’t suddenly see Eddie standing before him, his face in a frown directed at Richie, as always, calling him a shithead, fuckwad, dickhead, asshole and any other name he can think of under the sun because of course, Richie lost his glasses, he would say, he probably did it on purpose to fuck with everyone.

Richie’s chest hurt at the thought of Eddie being here berating him like that, when he was lying dead and buried in the rubble of the cave beneath that _fucking_ house, because everyone made him leave him, abandon him.

They make their way back to the townhouse eventually and Richie goes straight over to the main desk. It had been empty every time they had passed it while staying there, and so he was pretty sure the owners didn't actually exist, or they were just over trusting. He goes behind the desk, and grabs the spare room key for Eddie’s room.

He goes straight up and the losers leave him be.

They watch him go, his shoulders were slumped, his head down, his limbs looked heavy and like he was dragging them. The grief looking like it was physically weighing him down, and their hearts ached to see it. Sure they all felt fucking heartbroken that Eddie was gone, but seeing a physical representation of their grief in Richie, times a thousand, was fucking hard to take.

He makes it to Eddie’s door, and stands outside it for a long moment; bracing himself for coming face to face with Eddie’s stuff, his smell hitting him as he walks in.

Then his hand was moving, he unlocks the door, opens it and walks in. His body is on auto pilot, barely aware of the movements he made.

He thought enough to shut the door behind him and then he was on his knees opening Eddie’s suitcase, grabbing the first shirt he could. He managed to drag himself over to the bed. He fell onto it; shoving Eddie’s shirt into his face and breathing him in as deeply as he could. Eddie filled his senses, all he could think was Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, like a mantra, a prayer, beating through his veins, around his head.

He cried, harder than at the quarry, something he hadn’t thought possible. This time, his sobs were near screams, he had to hold back slightly earlier, couldn’t let them in how much it _killed_ him that Eddie had been taken from him.

He cried and cried and cried until he knew nothing but darkness, Eddie’s scent enveloping him and guiding him into unconsciousness.

He couldn’t help but hope he didn’t wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Fuck. THAT was harder to write than I thought it would be without crying my eyes out. Honestly, it hurt me so much, but it has to be done. I just hope I did the scene justice!
> 
> So, we're done with the book and film after this, now we can get into the nitty gritty of what I have planned for our bunch of losers and those that passed. YESS!! Also, two updates in one day? Whaaaaat? That probably won't happen again unless I write a reaalllllly long chapter and have to split it up (not saying that is what I had to do with this and chap 3 but it is also what I had to with this one and chap 3 heh heh)
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos, I'd love to know what you think! Be sure to subscribe or bookmark for updates!


	5. living hell

To his complete and utter dismay, Richie didn’t fall into the endless abyss of despair and die of grief as he had hoped. Apparently that’s not how this shit worked.

His hands clutched the shirt he had been holding back up to his face, burying himself in the last of Eddie’s essence.

He stays like that, for possibly hours, fading in and out of conscious, sobbing at different intervals. There were quiet moments in between, where the numbness took over and wrapped him up in a comforting peace. This was only for a short time though, because when he thought he was finally done? That he had given all he could give and his body and mind would give up on him at last? Eddie’s scent would fill his senses again, immediately followed by sobs wracking his body, burning his throat and crushing his lungs.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, nor does he care, he feels like he is stuck in this endless void of anguish.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

He’s roused from whatever unconscious realm he had fallen into, confused because he can’t remember where even he is for a moment, but then the knock happens again and a voice floats through to him.

“Richie? Can I come in?” It’s a female voice, which means it can only be Bev.

Then he looks around himself, his eyes not only blurry because he lost his glasses at some point, but he felt like he could hardly open them. He could imagine how puffy they must look. He doesn’t care.

His head dropped back to the pillows, eyes already closing, the darkness welcoming him again.

On the other side of the door, Bev is leaning against it, using all her restraint to not just burst in there and save Richie from whatever hole he was falling into. Her hand was clutching the door knob, just in case.

“Can I at least get you something to eat? A coffee? Anything?” she urges, trying to keep her voice level, she remembered how Richie got when he thought people pitied or felt sorry for him, and she didn’t want to make him feel worse. If that was even possible.

She let out a sigh, and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door for a moment. God she wished he would answer her, she didn’t need him to face her if that was too much for him, but if he could just _say _something that would make her feel… well, she wouldn’t feel better, but it would be _something_.

She turns away from the door, feeling useless, and is met with Ben’s concerned face.

She goes over to him and falls into his arms; she buries her face in his chest and can’t help the tears already falling. She couldn’t be more grateful to have him in her life right now, but she resented the fact that Richie didn’t have this with Eddie, that it was ripped so cruelly from him. The guilt she felt that she got to share her love and life with Ben, while Richie had to grieve over his loss, made her cry harder.

One strong arm is wrapped around her back, while his other hand holds her head gently against him; he strokes her hair and lets her ride through her own grief.

It felt like they were going through it two fold right now.

They lost Eddie and they couldn’t help but worry that they were losing Richie too.

Whatever happens, they were going to be here for him, when he was ready to talk to them or just be with them, let them in, they will be here waiting.

They were not going to go anywhere, no matter how long it takes.

It’s not like they had anywhere urgent to be right now, Bev had left her husband when she came to Derry and she was going to get the divorce papers ready soon. Ben worked mostly from home with his architectural business anyway, and he had told everyone they could call or email if they needed him. Bill, as an author, also worked from home and had brought his laptop with him, so he would be able to continue with his book while he was here. Then Mike, well, he lived in Derry and was still working at the library, so he wasn’t exactly going anywhere anytime soon.

They were all still at the townhouse, as it was only midday the following day after the events of the final battle, after everything had been saved and wrecked at the same time.

Time, up until that point, had felt like it was passing achingly slow. It didn’t help that Bev hadn’t really slept at all. She was restless with worry over Richie and when she did succumb to sleep it was fuelled with nightmares that would shock her awake, shaking and sweating. This meant Ben, by default, did not get much, if any, sleep either because when she woke up he was immediately there, comforting her and calming her, helping her breathe easier and hold her.

Just as he was doing now.

Her sobs slowed, her breathing still ragged.

God she hated all of this.

Pennywise was physically dead and gone, but the presence of him still hung over them like a thick cloud of taunting agony and torment. He took one of their own with them, and that meant they wouldn’t just be skipping off into the fucking sunset, ready to finally move on and live their lives as they should have done the first time around.

Ben’s hand is still stroking her hair, still comforting her and helping her get through it.

She takes a few more deep breaths and pulls back slightly, the hand that was in her hair falls to join the other one round her waist, while she brings her own to also wrap around his waist as well.

She looks up at him, “God, I’m sorry for that, I didn’t mean to just start crying in the hallway for the world to hear,” she says, her voice hoarse.

He brings a hand to her cheek and his thumb strokes it, she turns her head into it and closes her eyes for a brief moment.

When she opens them and looks back up to meet Ben’s, his own eyes reflect the pain she feels, but his expression is soft, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, we’re still going through hell right now, it’s not even been 24 hours since… everything happened, it’s still raw, we can cut ourselves some slack,” he reassures, his thumb still stroking her cheek.

She breathes in deep, and exhales heavily, nodding as she does, “Yeah, I guess,” she pauses, to look behind her at Richie’s door, “I just wish I knew what I could do for him right now,” she holds him tighter and rests against his chest.

He starts rubbing his hands up and down her back, he lets out a sigh of his own before resting his chin atop her head, “I think for now, we just have leave him be, let him come to us, I know you’re worried, so am I, and I promise if by this evening he hasn’t come out to at least eat, I’ll kick his door down for you,” he says, trying and failing to lighten his tone at the end there.

He had a gut feeling he was going to have to do just that. He didn’t want to, he knew they would have to be careful around Richie, but he also couldn’t let him waste away in that goddamn hotel room. He would probably hate him for it, but he would be the bad guy if it meant saving Richie from himself.

He couldn’t let them lose another; they were already surrounded by too much death. He’s sure they’ve all had their fill for a long while.

They hold each other for another minute, taking each other in and wondering how they were all going to get through this, before making a slow walk down the stairs to get themselves a hot coffee and see if they could stomach some food.

~

**1994**

_It was graduation day. Richie was excited to leave this shitty backwater town at the end of the summer, but that excitement was overshadowed by the fact that he wouldn’t be leaving with Eddie. His mom was shipping him off to New York, of all places, while Richie would be going up to Boston. It wasn’t as far as he’d hoped, but it was enough for now. _

_He would get through college and then he’d decide where to go next._

_Eddie and him had promised to stay in contact, and had even said they would get a place together after college, be roommates in some city in some state that was as far from godforsaken Maine as possible._

_At least they had this summer before everything changed. _

_He looked himself over in the full length mirror one last time, adjusting and readjusting his robes and hat. _

_He had shot up like crazy the past few years, he was definitely taller than six feet, although he hadn’t measured himself in a while, and with that it meant he was lanky as hell, with his floppy mop of brown curls and coke bottle glasses. _

_He had been tempted to get contacts for this day, but decided against it. He didn’t feel too keen on sticking his fingers in his eyes, so glasses it will be._

_He kept readjusting his hat and robes._

_He didn’t get why he felt so nervous. _

_That was lie, he did. But he had been trying to not think about it too much._

_He was still deciding if he was going to tell Eddie how he felt. _

_But he wasn’t sure if he had now left it too late, because even if Eddie reciprocated, not something he expected, they were going to different colleges, meaning any relationship they could have would be long distance. _

_On the other hand, it wasn’t really about Eddie feeling the same; it was more about getting it off his chest. He had wondered if shifting his confession out into the open would ease the inner turmoil and lighten the load so to speak. Maybe it would help him move on._

_He took a deep breath and decided he couldn’t just stand here readjusting his clothes every three seconds because he was beginning to feel like he was psyching himself out. _

_He had more to be nervous about, he was also the valedictorian and with that came a motherfucking speech._

_He knew it by heart, he had gone over and over and over it probably a thousand times the past few months, and he knew he would be fine when he was up there, but the anticipation was getting to him._

_Before he could think any more about the day’s events and the future and get himself worked up more than he already was, he turned from the mirror and left his room._

_~_

_Richie walked out of the hall beaming ear to ear. Eddie was on his right, Stan on his left, and Bill, Mike and Ben were walking slightly ahead of them. _

_“Freedom!” he shouts as they do so, he drops his arms around Stan and Eddie’s shoulders, and they laugh along with him._

_Their parents all get their last pictures in, the boys grinning and holding their diplomas, throwing their hats in the air, and then individual photos of their respective sons._

_With that done, the parents give them all their last kisses and hugs and I’m so proud you’s, and then they’re heading out of the parking lot._

_Richie quickly pulls Eddie to the side, while the guys hang out by Bill’s car. They were going to get changed at one of their houses and then head out on a road trip together before everyone went their separate ways at the end of the summer._

_Richie’s sure he’ll get more moments with Eddie, but he had to grab him now, while they were still high off the buzz of graduating, he had to capture this moment._

_So, he whipped out his disposable camera and got a quick snap of them both. His left arm wrapped around Eddie and pulled him close. He caught them both in the middle of laughter, giddy with a childish excitement._

_With that done, he pulled away from Eddie slightly, his arm still loosely hung on his shoulders and he looked down at him. _

_Eddie was positively glowing, his eyes were exultant and his smile was brighter than the fucking sun right now._

_If there was ever going to be a more perfect moment, it was in this one._

_Eddie’s smile softened as he noticed Richie staring at him semi-seriously._

_Richie felt the longing fuel his veins, his heart was about ready to burst, his gut had never been more sure of how much he loved his best friend, it was now or never, every atom in him was yelling at him to finally do it, his free hand moved of its own accord, toward Eddie’s cheek-_

_But then it just went to the back of Eddie’s head and he brought him in close for a hug._

_He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be the reason Eddie’s smile was wiped from his face, for any doubt or uncertainty that would taint their newfound hopes and dreams for the future. He was sure that Eddie wouldn’t reject him as his friend if he knew how he felt, but he didn’t want Eddie to change how he behaved around Richie, to become unsure of Richie’s intentions, Richie couldn’t do that to their friendship._

_He was going against every fibre of his being in denying himself this confession, but Eddie’s own happiness meant more to him than satisfying his own urges. _

_“I love you, man,” he says gruffly into Eddie’s hair as he grips him tight to himself._

_“I love you, too, Rich,” He says back. They always said they loved each other, but to Eddie it was platonic and Richie would say it light heartedly so as not to betray how deep that love really went for him._

_He closes his eyes, and as he always did when Eddie said it, he pretended for a moment that Eddie meant it, _really _ meant it, the way Richie did, and allowed himself to imagine what that would feel like, the euphoria filling him up to the brim for a moment, before it faded and the reality set in._

_Eddie would never feel the same, and you know what? That’s actually okay, because Richie treasured his friendship above all else, and he would do anything to keep it intact._

_He let himself feel Eddie in his arms, and let himself be overcome by the excitement of this summer they would get to share, to continue to be some kids for a while longer, before they would have new responsibilities and commitments, before they had to grow up._

_They pull away from each other, Richie grips Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes shining, “Let’s make this the motherfucking summer to remember, alright Eds?” _

_Eddie just laughs and walks out from under Richie’s hands, but then he grabs one and drags Richie over to the others._

_They jog over lightly, laughing, the others don’t know what they’re laughing about but they join in, grateful for this moment of euphoria, and before they know it they’re off. _

_They speed past the “you’re now leaving Derry sign,” and cheer as loud as they can, hooting and hollering._

_“Eat our dust motherfuckers!” Richie shouts out the window, and everyone laughs again._

_~_

Richie wakes up with a start, gasping and clutching at Eddie’s shirt as he does, it takes him only a moment to realise that what he had just “dreamt” wasn’t really a dream, but a memory.

He, and the others, had clearly not realised there were still some memories to recover. It felt like he had so many thrust onto him when he got to Derry, he didn’t think there could be anything left.

It seems he was wrong.

The memory in question, an actually quite important one, and what should have been prominent, was their graduation. Why would that memory be the one to demand it be remembered?

Maybe he was taunting himself. The one moment twenty odd years ago when he had a chance to tell Eddie how he felt and have at least twenty years with him before he succumbed to Pennywise, the moment he didn’t take because he didn’t realise he’d lose those twenty years, so maybe he shouldn’t beat himself up over not taking that shot.

God, he was not up for analysing this shit, he didn’t want to think about anything, couldn’t he just be? Couldn’t even his own mind leave him the fuck alone while he imploded?

He scrubbed a hand down his face and wiped his eyes, stretched, then lay back down, still keeping a hold of Eddie’s shirt.

He looked up at the ceiling, not really seeing, and his mind finally became blank and unthinking, pushing away that memory.

He was an empty vessel now, and he let it wash him over like a wave, grateful for some peace at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love shown so far! Keep commenting and leaving kudos, it is all appreciated and I love hearing what you think!
> 
> Let me know what you think of the chapter title as well, I'm not too sure about it but I really wanted to post!


	6. crawling out of the darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self harm/ attempted suicide

Bill sat on his bed, his eyes glazed over, not really seeing the room before him. He was still trying to process the events of yesterday, how quick everything went and fucking shattered before his eyes.

He couldn’t get Richie’s sobs from the quarry or the way he had looked back at the townhouse, out of his head. He didn’t think he had seen anyone become so broken before. He had certainly written it many times, but this was one case where the imagining could never match up to the reality.

He knew that he and Eddie had been close, possibly the closest of the losers, but he didn’t realise how deep those feelings went, until now. He didn’t need anyone to spell out for him how deeply Richie loved Eddie, a blind man could freaking see it.

It was too much to bear really, and didn’t that make Bill feel fucking selfish for thinking that when Richie’s world was crumbling around him. Of course, he was also broken by Eddie’s death; he was one of his best friends too, but to see the grief on Richie, fuck. That was a lot.

He wasn’t sure how they were going to get through this. One thing he did know though, was they had to do it together, and they had to be there for Richie, anyway they can. 

With that thought, he heaved himself up from the bed, and slumped his way across the room, rubbing a hand down his exhausted face as he went.

He walked out of his room and down the hall; he caught up with Bev earlier and knew she had no success in drawing Richie out of his room, so he thought he’d give it a try as it’s been a few hours since.

He stopped outside Richie’s door and took a deep breath in, readying himself.

And he knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

He knocked a third time, loud enough without banging it down, worry building inside him.

_Still _nothing.

He decided to hell with it and went for the door knob. It turned easily in his hand, and he walked into the room, with trepidation because he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was going to find when he got inside.

He is only met with an empty room, clothes strewn across the floor from an open suitcase, the bed a rumpled mess with a gaping Richie shape hole from where Bill assumed he had spent the last twenty four hours.

Despite the mundane nature of the room, Bill couldn’t help but feel like he was walking into a vacuum that sucked away any hope and joy and all that was left in its wake was heartbreak and despair. He could feel it pressing down on him like a heavy cloud of depression, he could practically smell it in the air, although that could also be the fact that Richie locked himself away in a room with no windows open for a whole day, and clearly no shower had been taken after leaving the quarry.

The door clicked shut behind him, the sound swallowed up into the void.

Bill started to panic; he scrubbed a hand down his face as his mind raced to all the possibilities of where Richie could be.

He began pacing into the room, stepping over what he realised were Eddie’s clothes. Followed quickly by the dawning realisation that it must be Eddie’s room. He hadn’t known what room Richie had rented and only knew the number because Bev told him. He wasn’t sure how Bev knew that Richie would be here, but it made an awful, twisted kind of sense that that would be the case.

If Richie was going to fall apart anywhere it would be surrounded by anything that was Eddie.

His chest felt heavy as his panic rose, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_ fuck_.

Before he could send himself into a full scale panic attack he heard a thud come from somewhere in the room.

Of course, in his panic he didn’t think about the motherfucking bathroom.

He sprinted the short distance and threw open the door, all but crashing into the room.

“Shit,” he breathed out as he took in the sight before him.

Richie was on the floor against the bathtub and opposite the sink, knees brought up to his chest, his hands clutching his legs, his face hidden in said knees.

Bill barely caught sight of something red in the sink before he was on the floor beside Richie, an arm going around him and rubbing his back, the other hand gripping one of Richie’s white knuckled on his leg. He rubs it gently, easing it away and relaxing the muscles there for him.

“Hey, Rich, what’s going on?” he asks hesitantly.

Richie finally lifts his head, tears streaming down his face, “F-fuck, if I kn-know Billy,” he sobs out, “Fuck, what is wrong with me, I’m such a f-fucking coward, I-I-I c-c-can’t even… I-I can’t even- fuck!” he shouts through the tears and his hands come up to grab at his hair, his expression pained.

It’s then that Bill notices more red dripping from Richie’s hands.

His brain ticks over a second before he realises its blood. He feels his face pale and his own blood go ice cold in his veins as he comes to a horrible conclusion of what happened in here, and what he could have found if Richie had succeeded.

He knows he doesn’t need to but he has to look, he has to confirm his fears. He gets up, his body feeling heavier than before, light headed, and leans down over the sink.

Razor blades covered in blood.

He gasps for breath as he feels his face going clammy and his stomach churns. He swallows thickly, not wanting to throw his guts up right now when Richie needs him.

Bill turned his back on the horrifying sight in the sink, to focus on his friend breaking down on the floor.

He knelt down in front of him and gripped his hands, pulling them from his face and replacing them with his own, trying to get Richie to focus on him.

“Richie, Rich, hey, look at me,” he urged, managing to not sound as frantic as he felt. Before he inspected Richie’s wounds he needed to calm him down so he could focus.

Richie’s eyes squint open, red raw and still flowing with tears, but he manages to fix them on Bill’s steady ones.

“That’s it, buddy, keep your eyes on me, okay?” he says, nodding, Richie mimics him.

“Okay, breathe with me now, in,” he takes a deep breath in and Richie follows his lead.

“And out,” his breath leaves him in a rush and Richie’s in a shaky blubber, trying to get control of his tears.

They stay like that for a while, breathing in and out, in and out, until Richie’s breath becomes even, the sobs have quieted and the tears have slowed.

Bill’s hands didn’t leave Richie’s face until then, instead they rested on Richie’s own hands, hesitant.

Bill meets Richie’s eyes again, a question in them. Richie understands and he nods.

Bill turns them both over to get a look at the wrists, and a sigh of relief leaves him at the sight, because it’s nowhere near as bad as he thought it was going to be.

There was a jagged line cut into one wrist, the left, while the other went unscathed, and it had already stopped bleeding and was starting to congeal, to heal. It didn’t look deep enough to worry about either, so Richie didn’t really get very far at all. Still, the fact he had actually _considered_ and attempted what he did, worried Bill greatly.

Without a word he went to the cabinet and hoped he would find a first aid kit of some kind, only to come up empty.

“The suitcase,” a small voice rasps out, and it strikes Bill in the heart to hear it come out of his friend. He clenches his eyes shut for a moment before he then heeds Richie’s advice and goes for Eddie’s suitcase.

Of course, the world’s greatest hypochondriac would be prepared for every worst possible scenario that could occur, even some that couldn’t, and have the contents of a hospital with him that he could legally obtain.

He found a first aid kit easily and was back by Richie’s side.

He cleaned up the wound and bandaged it up, because it may not be the worst it could be but it was still pretty deep and would be prone to infection or reopening so it needed to be covered. He harnessed Eddie as much as he could then; thinking about what he would do if he had been there.

When he’s done, he rocks back on his heels and takes in his friend before him. The past twenty four hours had really done a number on Richie; he looked like the broken shell of who he once was.

He had some stubble growing through, making his face look a little dirty; he was deathly pale, contrasting with the dark circles that formed under his eyes. The eyes themselves were red raw and puffy from all the crying he must have done.

All Bill wanted was to be able to take his pain away, give him some hope and solace, make him feel just a little bit better, but for the life of him he didn’t know how.

He supposed the first step to normalcy was getting his friend to eat, which he had clearly not done since getting back yesterday.

They had been sitting in a heavy, tense silence, while Richie’s breathing continued to slow. Bill’s hands gripping his thighs, rubbing down his face, rubbing his thighs, God he didn’t know what to do with his fucking hands.

It’s Richie who breaks the silence first, his voice small, “Bill… I’m so so-”

Bill holds up a hand and cuts him off, “You can stop right there, you don’t have to apologise, for anything, okay? I know you’re going through hell right now, and you might feel like all you want to do is give up, but I just want you to know, you’re not alone in this, you have me, you have all of us, we’re here, we’re not going anywhere and we _want_ to be there for you and help you anyway we can, you just have to let us,” he stops there, his voice firm but gentle, he managed to grip Richie’s eyes in his own as he spoke, hoping to convey every sentiment and show how much he truly meant every word.

Richie shakes his head and scoffs, covering his face in his hands, “Fuck, I’m so fucking selfish,” he berates himself.

Bill frowns, shaking his own head in disbelief, “You’re one of the least selfish people I know Rich, what are you talking about?”

“I’m acting like I’m the only fucking one grieving here, when you all lost someone too, I mean, fuck, before E- before yesterday, we had already lost fucking St-Stan, we all have two fucking friends to mourn right now and I’m in here, fucking cutting my wrists? Fuck sake,” he had been gesturing throughout that whole speech, his face showing how disgusted he felt with himself, and Bill couldn’t fucking stand it.

“That’s enough, Richie, yes we are all going through shit right now, we’ve all lost people, but- but we… we know what _Eddie_ meant to you man, we know it’s hitting you harder than any of us, that’s not to say we’re not grieving too, we are, _God_ we are, but this isn’t a competition for who’s hurt the most, we want to be there for you, we all want to be here for each other, I meant it when I said we’re not going anywhere, and seriously, you wanna talk about selfish? To be honest, dude, helping you is helping us as well, in a weird way, okay? So let us be here,” Bill said, no stutter in sight because the fact that Richie needed him right now? To be the strong Big Bill they all looked to him as when they we kids? He hadn’t felt more confident in himself and his words in so long, and that meant no stutter.

Richie nodded back in ascent eventually, not looking entirely convinced, but not arguing back all the same and he certainly looked calmer, more at ease. Bill hoped his words brought some semblance of comfort to his friend because he meant every word with every fibre of his being.

They slowly work their way back to the normality they longed for. Bill got Richie up, guided him to the sink, that he had cleaned up, so he could wash his face. Then Richie decided to have a go at shaving, and then he had Bill wait in the bedroom while he showered.

Having Bill there as support got him motivated to move and get his shit together.

Bill was pleasantly surprised by this and took it as a positive sign for moving forward.

It wasn’t long before Richie was done, and Bill suddenly remembered they were in Eddie’s room so he went up to the bathroom door and knocked lightly to get his friend’s attention.

“Hey Rich, you want me to get you some clothes from your room?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah, I have a pair of sweats and a hoody you could get, my key was in the pocket of my- fuck!”

“Are you alright in there?” Bill asks concerned with Richie cutting himself off like that.

“My key is- fuck! You’re gonna have to get the spare from downstairs, I’m sorry man, I-I can quickly change into my old clothes and do it,” he says, sounding oddly strained.

“N-No, d-d-don’t worry about it, man, I’ll g-get it and your c-clothes,” he reassures, and then he’s off as quick as he can so Richie doesn’t catch a chill.

In the bathroom Richie was barely holding himself together as he was hit with a wave of nausea as he remembered where his key had been left.

It was in his jacket, the jacket he had used the stem the bleeding on Eddie’s chest. The jacket he had left with Eddie when he had been pulled out of the rumbling cavern by his friends.

They were both buried underneath Neibolt.

His stomach rolled and he swallowed thickly to stop the vomit from erupting, but then he had to drop to his knees and let it out because it was unrelenting.

He rested his forehead on his forearms when that was over, his breath coming out in heavy gusts, his whole body shaking from that onslaught.

With a final spit into the toilet, he flushed and rinsed his mouth in the sink, and then realised he had none of his fucking toiletries to clean out his mouth effectively and he didn’t want to make Bill run back again. 

His eyes fall on Eddie’s toiletry bag, and he reluctantly gets out the toothbrush and toothpaste, fighting back the image of Eddie using them himself the whole time.

A knock at the door and Bill’s voice drifting through save him from spiralling again, he accepts the clothes and gets dressed as quick as he can because he suddenly feels like he is being suffocated by Eddie’s presence and he needs to get out of the room.

He hadn’t asked Bill for a shirt because he had one of Eddie’s. Now normally his clothes would have been too small, not just because of the height difference but Richie’s shoulders were broader, however Eddie had clearly buffed himself out and Richie found a shirt that looked like it would have been slightly oversized on Eddie and then fit him nearly perfectly. He just needed _something _of his Eddie Spaghetti with him. Hugging him. 

He also forgot to ask for underwear, but Bill remembered for him and he was so emotional already it damn near brought fucking tears to his eyes at the thoughtfulness.

He ran a hand through his hair in lieu of a comb or brush, and he was _not_ going to use anything else of Eddie’s because then he really would just fucking keel over and break down or vomit or both.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for being able to get up out of that deep dark hole he thought he’d be trapped in forever, get himself washed and looking like a goddamn fucking human again.

He hoped he could keep it up, and as he walked out of the bathroom to be met with Bill’s supportive gestures and reassurances, he realised he might actually be able to.

So long as he had his amazing fucking friends to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there! The next chapter will pick up, I might include another flashback, still considering it, but I wanna get the ball rolling on bringing back our boyssss.
> 
> Feel free to DM me on twitter @LornaAnnF to chat about Reddie, chat about my fic or to put in a request, I love getting different ideas to explore and keep my creative juices flowing~


	7. like a jigsaw, i can be put back together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobic slurs are used briefly in this chapter

Richie followed Bill out of Eddie’s room and downstairs to the kitchen, his legs feeling like they were weighed down by lead the whole way.

They make it and Bill goes to sit, while Richie clears his throat, “Marsh, Haystack,” he acknowledges, his voice still managing to sound croaky and hoarse.

Bev is up immediately from her spot where she had been nursing a coffee that she neglected ages ago, and then he’s being wrapped up in her warm embrace, her small frame struggling to encompass the tree trunk that was Richie as much as she can.

He bends down to her petite height and she’s up on her tip toes meeting him halfway. He buries his face in her flaming hair, inhaling her scent that always seemed to calm him just right.

He always loved his Bevvy hugs, he remembers with a jolt. More memories flash through his mind, of his Bevvy slinging an arm around his shoulder while all the losers sat around the clubhouse, or just leaning her head on said shoulder and holding his arm, serene and comfortable, of his feelings for Eddie getting too much and her holding him through the onslaught. She knew.

She _always _knew, and she was always there to comfort him through it, the only loser wise to his pain of loving someone so close and yet so out of reach, even before he told her.

He holds her tight and he feels a stinging behind his eyes, his throat closing up in that familiar way that tells him he’s going to start leaking all over her shoulder soon, just like when they were fifteen and he came to the abrupt realisation he wouldn’t be able to take Eddie to prom, which was yet to arrive for three years, or any dance for that matter before then. Bevvy just held him as he cried desperately into her hair and shoulder, soaking it through with tears and snot; she stroked his hair, his back, his face, comforting him as best as she could. How she always did, she had been well versed in Richie’s heartache by then, since they were thirteen and had thought they had defeated the clown and Richie’s feelings bloomed harder than before.

He can’t help the choked sob that escapes him, and then he’s vaguely aware of hushed words being spoken, feeling Bev nodding in return to whatever had been said.

“Come on, honey, let’s sit, okay?” she says quietly into his shoulder, he nods and allows her to guide him to a chair. His vision has gone blurry with the tears that have started falling, but he notices belatedly that Bill and Ben are gone.

Bev is sat next to him, a petite hand rubbing gentle circles into his back; he covers his face with his hands.

“Fuck,” he bites out, “I thought I’d stopped this,” he says wetly around his tears, his voice shaky.

“It’s gonna take time, Rich, it’s okay, that’s what we’re here for,” her voice is soft and soothing; so much understanding behind those words and his chest hurts at that.

“Yeah... you’ve always been there… I remembered, just now, what got me crying again, when I cried all over you one night over not being able to take- to-to take,” he takes a deep, steadying breath, “not being able to take Eddie to prom, well that first time, pretty sure there were too many of those times to count,” god he cried over Eddie so much when they teenagers, he loved him with a burning passion, but Derry wasn’t ready for a gay romance. It killed him because he just couldn’t understand how his love could be anything other than pure and sweet, but after his locker had been defaced for the fifth time with the words _faggot_, _fairy _and _dirty_, the butterflies fell like stones in his stomach, and he started believing what everyone else thought of him. Eddie, sweet, innocent Eddie, didn’t deserve to be sullied by Richie and his sick, perverted thoughts.

So then the crying episodes started, and Bev was always there, with her warm patience and gentle comfort. She was his saving grace through those years.

Her hand doesn’t stop on his back, she rubs along his shoulders, “I remember… I remember all of it, Rich,” she says in a small voice, trembling with her own threat of tears.

“I’m so sorry I put you through all of that, Bevvy, _shit_, I was so selfish,” he sobs out, nearly wailing the words out.

He feels her other hand, so tiny but firm and forceful on his own gigantic ones. She pulls them from his face, managing to grasp them in both of hers, barely.

She keeps hold of them in one hand, the hand that left his back, while her right comes to his cheek, turning his face to hers.

His tear filled and swollen eyes meet her own watery blue ones.

She looks like she’s barely holding it together right now, but he can tell she’s trying to be strong for him, like she always has been and he wants to kick himself for it, “Listen to me, I was there because I _wanted_ to be, you’re one of my best friends, Rich, always have been, I loved you, still love you, like my own little brother, you never made me do anything I didn’t want to, or put me in any situation I wouldn’t want to be there for, I love you, okay? It’s what families do, they’re there for each other with no questions asked, you _never_ had to ask me for anything, not then, not now, I love you and I’m here, as long as you need me to be,” she finishes, her voice growing in strength with each word with how fervently she believed in what she was saying, like it was fact, a fact that should have been understood with no uncertainty.

Richie realises he may have known all along, but he couldn’t help that he needed to hear it right now, hear that he wasn’t really the burden he had believed he was back when they were in high school and it turned into a nearly monthly ritual that he would climb through her window or hang back when the other losers left the clubhouse and he would let out all his longing and heartache.

He wouldn’t always cry about it either, sometimes he just needed to rant about how goddamn fucking _cute_ Eddie was in those red short shorts and how could he not know the effect he had on Richie whenever he scrambled into the hammock because apparently Richie’s time was up, tangling his gangly limbs around Richie’s own, his skin burning wherever he touched, and god it drove him fucking _crazy._

“Love you too, Bevvy, now that you’ve admitted we’re family, you know what that means?” he says, his tears have slowed and his voice isn’t as croaky. He tries to lighten his tone but can’t help the pathetic shakiness that still threatens to overtake.

She narrows her eyes back playfully, “What could that possibly mean, Tozier?” she asks cautiously.

“You’re never getting rid of me now, and if I’m not maid of honour at yours and Haystack’s wedding that will be an incredible injustice,” he says, trying for one of his shit eating grins, although he’s not sure how that must look with his tear streaked cheeks and sore red eyes, but Bev still manages to cracks a laugh.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way, Trashmouth,” she says warmly and he can feel how much she means that. It makes his heart burst and he finally feels some hope, like he will actually be able to pick up the broken pieces of himself and put them back together, like maybe he will be okay.

He can’t help smiling back, and he finds it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would.

But then he frowns, affronted, “Hey, who are calling _little_ brother anyway? Have you seen me, pipsqueak?”

She laughs again, “Excuse me, who’s the older one here?” she bites back, her old fire returning, her blue eyes alight and burning.

“By like, two months, as if that counts,”

“It _so_ counts,”

“No it doesn’t,”

“It does!”

“Doesn’t!”

“Does!”

“I don’t think so!”

“I think so!”

They pause then, catching each other’s eyes.

Then they burst out laughing.

It’s nigh on hysterical as the tension leaves their systems.

Unable to believe that they are really bickering again just like they would as petty teenagers. They were always more like siblings than friends, loving each other one day and hating each other the next but always willing to die for each other if it came down to it. An unspoken agreement, because as Bev rightfully declared, they are family, and families don’t always need to say how much they appreciate and love each other, and even though they bicker one day, it’s never serious and they forget the next time they see each other. All is forgiven and forgotten, something they took for granted so easily back then. That they would always have each other, through thick and thin, no matter what, until they didn’t.

“Just a word of warning,” Richie starts when they have calmed down some, “I’m pretty sure I’ve become a co-dependent, clingy bitch and I’m not letting you guys outta my sight for any longer than necessary, I’m not going through the last soul sucking twenty seven years again,” he finishes, a confidence filling his voice and body that he didn’t know he had. There was that unspoken understanding again, like he knew deep in bones that he wouldn’t be judged for feeling that way, and that maybe Bev would feel the same.

She smiles in understanding, her eyes soft, her cheeks still lightly flushed from that laughing fit, “Like I said earlier, I wouldn’t have it any other way, Trashmouth,” she says, her smile widening, blinding and beautiful just like when they were sixteen and they were sitting round a little campfire in the dead of night, talking and laughing about nothing in particular, drinking the warm beers Bev had been able to sweet talk from the liquor store. They would catch eyes and just smile, never happier than when the seven of them got together.

He pulls her into a big bear hug, engulfing her small frame in his long, gangly limbs. He couldn’t be more grateful for her right now, he never could, but he had a feeling she knew. Like she _always _knew.

After a few minutes, or hours for all Richie knew or cared, of holding each other, they hear someone clear their throat and pull away, Richie feeling cold in her absence.

He doesn’t have long to feel that way though, because he turns and then Ben’s strong frame is engulfing _him_ and before he can blink he’s got a face full of his soft locks, his strong arms holding Richie so close and tight. He returns the gesture in earnest, trying his best to hold his friend close at the awkward angle of him sitting and straining up, while Ben is bending at the waist.

Richie decides to hell with it and stands, with Ben still latched onto him, refusing to let him go just yet, and Richie can _really _hug him back properly.

He finds himself burying his face in his neck and inhaling in his scent just as he had with Bev earlier. He always had a thing about certain smells; it was a strong comfort factor for him, so sue him.

If he wasn’t careful someone might, sniffing people wasn’t exactly always welcomed.

Not the losers though, they always got him and his odd quirks.

Someone else clears their throat, and he’s surprised that he’s able to pinpoint it as Mike’s, he can also hear someone laugh lightly into her hand, and he knows it’s Bev.

“Um, guys? As much I love bearing witness to this sight of brotherly love, I’m kinda feeling left out here,” Mike says, his tone full of affection and amusement.

Richie and Ben pull apart begrudgingly, and Richie can’t help squeezing his friends strong upper arms, “Man, I’m gonna miss the feel of those strong guns wrapped around me,” he says, exaggeratingly forlorn.

Ben smirks, “Don’t worry, bud, we’ve got plenty more time for that, it’s not like we’re going anywhere, anytime soon,” he jokes back with a suggestive wink and Richie can’t help barking out a laugh in shock. Ben wasn’t always up for Richie’s jokes but when he did have a comeback it always hit the mark.

“Damn, Haystack, who knew you were such a horn dog? Bev I think you need to get a tighter leash for your man, if you’re not careful he’ll stray right into my arms,” and just like that the Trashmouth is back.

Beverly just smirks, raising a brow, “Oh don’t worry, I’ll be right behind him,” He can feel the laughter rising and then he looks back over at Ben’s face that has gone bright red and he can’t control the convulsions that force themselves out, followed by Bev, Mike and Bill, relishing in this piece of contentment while it lasts, because they were all sure it wouldn’t last forever, that it couldn’t last forever right now.

He felt like he was walking a thin line here, like his laughter could snap any second into hysterics and then sobs on the kitchen floor, but having the losers around him to keep it in check made it a little bit easier, made the wickedly thin line imperceptibly thicker, not too much, but enough.

“Okay, okay, if you’re done flirting, can I have some sugar?” Mike says, pushing his way past Ben and knocking him out of his shock, he scurries over to Bev, and then Richie has got his arms full of Mike.

Again, on instinct, he turns his face into his neck and sniffs deeply, sighing into the bear hug.

Mike notices though, “Did you just sniff me?” he asks quietly, amusement in his tone.

“Can you blame a man, when you smell this fucking good?” Richie bites back gently.

Mike’s arms tighten around him, “It’s cool, I get it,” and Richie knew he did because of course Mike did. He always did.

They let go eventually, and then before he can get a breather Bill is on him. Bill holds him crushingly close and it knocks the breath out of him, and then he remembers the state that Bill had found him in earlier and he holds him just as tight, turning his head into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into his skin there.

Bill’s hold becomes minutely tighter, “Don’t ever be sorry,” he says back.

Richie nods his ascent and just keeps holding his best friend close, inhaling him, feeling the churning in his skull slow ever more with Big Bill’s comforting presence.

He couldn’t help but feel like he had earlier when Bev embraced him, he couldn’t help but feel, however naively, that things might actually get better. Maybe he will be okay, maybe he will survive his world crashing down. Maybe these losers, his family, will be the ones to stop it from crumbling completely.

Maybe they can pull him out of whatever hole he had fallen into and stop him from succumbing to the dark that had seemed so welcoming mere hours ago.

Maybe he will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. so that felt extremely cathartic to get that out, I felt some brother/sister bonding was in dire need! the next chapter should kick off Richie's search for a way of resurrecting Eddie, we can get ourselves of this funk and get the plot moving! 
> 
> don't hesitate to dm me on twitter @LornaAnnF to chat about all things reddie and even give me requests to keep my creative juices flowing!


	8. back to where we started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i'm back! wow it's been a while, but quarantine really got me in the fucking tits guys. i honestly thought that with all that time on my hands i'd be writing so much and it'd be great, but i had no motivation whatsoever, had to up my dosage of crazy pills and put myself into therapy. so. an all round great time, not forgetting i have a seven year old son that needed homeschooling and occupying outside of that. anyway its been a lot, sorry for spilling my problems all over you like this, i know it's been hard for everyone. thank god things are slowly getting back to normal though, right? well, here in the u.k anyway. okay, on with the story, i know that's what you're here for. enjoy!

Eventually everyone went back to their lives, as normally as they could with the ever looming cloud of grief following them as they went.

One thing was certain; no one wanted to leave Richie alone.

He had done his best to convince them that he would be okay; at least, they shouldn’t worry that he would take his own life. Eddie had died saving Richie, he wasn’t about to waste his “sacrifice”. Yeah, he still got angry and overcome by mind numbing grief at the loss, but he wasn’t about to do that to Eddie.

The others, however, still couldn’t help but worry about him. They believed him when he said he wouldn’t attempt that again, but his methods for coping still left a lot to be desired. Even if he didn’t want to _purposefully_ kill himself, that didn’t mean he couldn’t send himself to an early grave through his various vices.

Bev and Ben went with him to Los Angeles first. They stayed with him in his place for a few weeks before they managed to get their own place not too far from him. With their jobs, their expertise in those areas and the money they had already accumulated from their success, they could pretty much start up again wherever they wanted.

Ben decided to keep his old house as a getaway and change of scenery for him and Bev, and Richie if he needed a break from reality for a little while.

Bill and Mike went travelling around Europe and back through America, starting with Los Angeles and ending in Florida where they would be setting up their lives together.

They stayed in LA for about a couple of months, before they headed on their road trip across the states.

Sometime during the week they spent in Derry getting their shit together and booking flights, Bill and Mike confessed how they had felt for each other. None of them knew the details, like who confessed to whom first and how it even happened. They just walked down to breakfast one morning holding hands, faces flushed and beaming, and of course everyone accepted it with open arms and hearts. They didn’t need to ask questions, all they needed to know was they loved each other and they were happy, that was enough for the losers.

Now, Richie was happy for them, and Bev and Ben, of course he was, but he still couldn’t help the niggling envy, followed quickly by a surge of guilt, that they got to be with whom they loved, happy and planning their futures together, while his promise at that future was ripped from him so viciously.

It made him hit the drink a bit harder and even partake in a line of coke or two at the various parties and clubs he would now go to regularly.

He just wanted to forget again, it was all so much easier when he was none the wiser about his apparently undying love for his childhood best friend who decided to get himself killed for him.

No, deep down, he knew that was lie.

He didn’t want to forget Eddie and his feelings again, so much as feel numb for a while. He relished nothing more these days than when his fingers and toes would tingle and his mind would go all fuzzy and he knew nothing but the mind-numbing high of the moment. Suddenly he would just be floating out of his body and away from his depression and the pitying glances of his friends, whom he truly loved dearly but if they really could stop doing that when they thought he wasn’t looking that would be a big help.

Oh, and the nightmares.

Yeah, those were a lovely little addition to take away with him when he left Derry.

They mostly consisted of him trying to save Eddie, but every time, no matter what he did, Pennywise still managed to get him. He would snatch him from his grasp, ever quicker and slicker than Richie could hope to be. The rest were filled with Pennywise terrorising and torturing Richie.

Now don’t get Richie wrong, he was aware of the fact that he was most likely suffering from PTSD, anxiety, depression and any number of mental health shit that his time in Derry had inflicted on him. He also knew he should get himself on some sort of medication and into therapy to help him with said issues. But there was a slight problem in that because he couldn’t exactly divulge _where_ all of his fuck tonne of problems had come from.

He knew that could just be an excuse though. Bev and Ben were both in therapy, and they could still talk through their childhood traumas, excluding Pennywise, and use and adapt the various _healthy _coping strategies they were advised by their therapists for that side of their trauma.

Of course he knew there were ways around it, but it was just so much easier to fall back into his bad habits and, quite frankly, he found he didn’t care.

He just didn’t care enough anymore to _try _with anything. Whether that be his career or his friendships, and he couldn’t help but feel shocked that they all still put up with him, determined not to give up on him. It certainly made him feel more shit, which in turn had him turning to alcohol and drugs more.

It was a vicious cycle, one he wasn’t sure he would be able to get out of anytime soon.

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d get out of it right now because he was back in Derry, checking into the same townhouse as last time, exactly a year ago.

Shockingly enough, there was an actual real life person to serve him, although he couldn’t say there was actually much _life_ left in her.

She was sitting at the desk, a smile on her face that dimmed slightly as he came up to her. She took on a more sombre air, and Richie felt the tension thicken around them.

Her eyes were a piercing green, they almost looked like as though they were glowing as they watched his every move.

He swallowed heavily, and tried to put on what he hoped was a polite smile, “Hi there, I’m here to check in, I hope I’m not interrupting any riveting activity you have going on behind that desk,” he joked.

Her face just became sadder, which was never a reaction he would expect, either a chuckle or witty comeback or slap in the face usually sufficed.

“A great sorrow follows you, hiding behind jokes will not make it go away, only worsen,” she says, and despite how old she looks, her voice was strong, albeit pitying.

Richie frowned, but not one to get drawn into psychic fads, he chose to ignore it, but as he opened his mouth it wasn’t his voice that spoke.

“I know who you are, Mr. Tozier, I’ve been expecting you,”

“Uhhhhh,” was all Richie managed to sound out.

Who was this woman?

He blinked a few times, baffled but she just smiled at him.

“You came last year, with some friends, and I have to warn you,” she said, her voice turning more serious.

“Listen, I just wanna check in, okay? But if that’s gonna be a problem, I can just go somewhere else,” he said, his tone matching hers.

Her face softens again, her eyes still glowing, “There’s no need for that, Mr. Tozier, you are very welcome here,” she said reassuringly.

Richie didn’t feel so assured, the way she looked at him made his insides go funny, and not in a good way, “Uh, okay,” he replied, not sounding the least bit convincing.

“I know you have suffered a great loss, but you must tread carefully while you are here, you have a strong spirit and it attracts that which should not be meddled with,” she says her voice and face serious, before it dramatically changes into a serene smile, “I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Tozier,” she says, as if she hadn’t just warned him against the forces of darkness or something.

He blinks at her for a moment before he offers her a shaky smile, that he thinks must come off more as a grimace, before replying, “Uh, t-thanks, I guess?” then he grabs his key and bags and all but legs it to his room up the stairs.

When he makes it to the safety of his room with his door shut _and _locked behind him, he lets out a long, somewhat shaky, breath, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

_What the fuck was that?_

He might have to reconsider coming to this town again after this trip was done with, he was sure it’d send him to an early grave if he did. He felt like that crazy lady just gave him an excuse to _never_ come back again, really.

He decided against unpacking, his trip might have to be cut shorter than originally anticipated, not that he was planning on staying here long anyway.

He settled for just removing his toiletries and getting himself ready for bed, it wasn’t too late but travelling from L.A took a lot out of him, along with all the emotional shit hanging off his back.

Right now, he just needed to sleep, he would deal with all the crazy shit tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit of a filler chapter this one, but i thought it was perfect as that because you're getting context for how Richie has coped since Eddie's death and some foreshadowing of what's to come! stay tuned, i'm on a roll now guys, i promise i'm not gonna leave you hanging for months on end again! xo


End file.
